


As You Wish

by Who_Needs_Reality



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Attempt at humour, Bellamy PoV, Clarke finds the lamp, Djinni & Genies, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Genie!Bellmay, Mild Angst, Modern AU, Pining Bellamy, mainly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6836170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_Needs_Reality/pseuds/Who_Needs_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake is a genie, and he's kind of used to it by now- it has been like 5,000 years after all. There's just one problem- his new mistress doesn't actually seem to have any wishes. Did he say one problem? Because there is one other big big big problem- he may or may not be developing an inconvenient crush on said new mistress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fic for AO3 and for Bellarke, so be gentle in your judgement XD This was inspired by a Neil Gaiman short story, and the fact that I am certified Bellarke trash. #itsplatonic

She definitely wasn't the worst he'd seen, as far as masters- or, in this case, mistresses- went. By the looks of her grey jumper and faded jeans, this was his native 21st century, which was one of the better ones. Much better than the 3rd. Bellamy had _hated_ the 3rd century. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the woman was not pale enough to be Scandinavian. English maybe? American like him?  
"What. The. _Fuck_?"  
Ah, American then. And judging by her tone of surprise, she wasn't one of those who had devoted her whole life to a search for a djinn or anything. Also good- those types were absolutely whacko, like that guy John Wilkes Booth. Bellamy hadn't liked him- the murder wishes were never pleasant, and Bellamy had quite liked Abraham Lincoln. Still, he'd had his fun. Shape-shifting into Booth during the assassination had been a pretty ingenious move, if he did say so himself. The idiot got what was coming to him.

So all-in-all, a perplexed blonde wasn't _too_ bad as far as owners of the lamp went, but she was still an owner. And it wasn't like Bellamy didn't _like_ getting out of the lamp and having a stretch. But he doubted he'd ever be pleased about a master. Mistress. Whatever. Might as well just get this over with. He bowed, hands folded.

"Greetings, Mistress of the djinn,  
Search your heart for three wishes within,  
Money, fame, knowledge, power,  
Decide on them at the midnight hour."

The girl still looked horrified. Bellamy made a mental note to speak to Anya, the chief genie, about amending the mantra- it was outdated. Well, in this century it was.  
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.  
"The genie of the lamp. Your djinn, three wishes, etcetera etcetera etcetera."  
She shook her head, dazed. "I don't- this isn't even a lamp!"  
Bellamy glanced at what she was holding. It was a thermos flask. "Huh. I'd forgotten that was the look for this century. Nice. Practical."  
She still looked confused. Bellamy sighed. Mortals were so _slow_. "Well obviously it can't just look like a standard oil lamp in every century," he explained, "it has to adjust to the time period. In Ancient Greek it was a _pithos_ , for example."  
"A-a what?"  
"It's like a decorative urn. Anyway, can we just skip to the important part?"  
She shook her head, still looking utterly bewildered. "I can't believe I found a djinn."  
Bellamy shrugged.  
"I mean, the most I ever got was a tooth fairy sighting, when I was nine."  
"Really? That's not very exciting. Haven't you at least seen a wild dragon?"  
The woman shook her head. "There aren't that many round these parts. I've only seen one in the zoo."  
Bellamy groaned. "Damn. It's always better with dragons."  
"So...what's your name?"  
Bellamy cocked his head to the side. It wasn't _unheard of_ for lamp-owners to ask him his name, but it wasn't exactly _common._  
"Bellamy Blake, at your service."  
"Clarke Griffin."  
They shook hands. That was _definitely_ unheard of.  
"I didn't know genies kept their last names," said Clarke, looking curious.  
"It's about all we keep after enslavement. That and our age."  
Clarke digested that for a moment.  
"So," Bellamy had begun to feel slightly awkward in the silence, "do you understand how this whole thing works? Starting midnight tonight, you can make three wishes- none of the three more wishes bullshit please- and then you get your wishes, I pop back into the lamp, the lamp disappears into time, et finis."  
"Okay. But... No thanks."  
Bellamy stared at her. "Excuse me?"  
Clarke shrugged. "I don't need wishes." She looked slightly mournfully at the lamp. "I just needed a thermos."  
"You can wish for a thermos."  
She snorted. "My student loan isn't _that_ bad thanks, I'll just get another one later. But you can just skip the wishes and get on with your life, I don't need any."  
Bellamy groaned again, twisting at the gold cuffs on his wrists. "It doesn't work like that. I can't go anywhere until you make the wishes."  
Clarke rubbed at a crease in her forehead. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked after a moment.  
"What?"  
"I don't know how long you've been in that lamp, but I bet you're parched. Can I get you anything?"  
_This_ was definitely unprecedented.  
"Um... Do you have any coffee?"  
Caffeine was one of the things Bellamy missed most about his pre-genie existence, so if she was offering, why not?  
She grinned. "Do I _ever_."

Bellamy magicked his clothes from the standard issue djinn harem pants and vest into some period appropriate jeans and a shirt; then they had coffee and they...talked. It was definitely a first, but it was kind of...nice. That wasn't a word Bellamy got to use often. A life bound by magic, Bellamy had noticed, was usually dictated by extremes- he'd experienced terrible and _glorious_ and _awe-striking_ aplenty, but not much _nice_. He decided "nice" was underrated.

Bellamy learnt things about Clarke as they talked. He learnt her father had died six years ago, and that she and her mother hadn't really been close since; he learnt also that this was okay, because she had great friends called Raven and Monty and Jasper whom she'd met at college, and who all lived in her building. He learned that she'd studied pre-med, but had pursued a career in art and now worked as the curator of a small gallery nearby. He learnt that she had had two serious relationships- Finn in college- who'd turned out to be a bastard but who had (inadvertently) introduced her to Raven- and Lexa, a year ago, who'd been great but had put her career above all else, and had ended things with an amicable split when she moved to Tokyo for a job.

Bellamy talked as well, about all his travels, and the different masters he'd had and centuries he'd seen, but also about his life before enslavement. He talked a lot about his sister, Octavia, who was also in the 21st century, and who he'd definitely try catch up with again while he was here. He told Clarke about how unlike many genies, he hadn't been captured for enslavement, but had volunteered because the compensation they would offer his surviving family- the newly eighteen-year-old Octavia- would make up for the destitution of their orphan upbringing, and would send her through college debt free, with plenty left over to buy a house. He told Clarke that he'd been a djinn for a cumulative total of 5,136 years, but on the linear timeline- Clarke's timeline- it had been five years, though he'd stopped ageing at twenty-three, Clarke's age.  
Bellamy had reminisced on his life countless times but actual _talking_ about it? Hearing about someone else's life? Yeah, it was nice.

"So where do you stand on making those wishes?"  
Clarke sighed. "I just...don't want to."  
"Can I ask why? I promise not to implicate you in the murder of a President, if that's it."  
She laughed. "I wasn't planning on assassination. No, I just- I don't believe in freebies." She shrugged. "I have everything I need. I mean, I can work to get get anything I don't have. But just...asking for something and poof it appears? That doesn't seem right."  
She glanced up and saw Bellamy studying her. "Hey, it's not like I can make wishes before midnight anyway. In the meantime, you can help me put away the groceries, which I was going to do before you so rudely interrupted."  
Bellamy smirked. "Hey, _you_ found the lamp."  
" _You_ invaded my thermos. Now come help."  
"Is that a wish?"  
"It is a _request_. Help or don't, it's up to you."  
Bellamy helped with the groceries.

***

 

He'd been surprised when she let him use the guest bedroom, but then again, she'd been surprised when he'd volunteered to sleep outside.  
"It's _December_."  
"I'm immortal, it's no trouble."  
"I may have dropped out of pre-med, but I cannot in good conscience let you sleep outside in _December_."  
"Why not? The last six masters did, it's no big deal."  
Clarke had just pursed her lips and opened the guest bedroom door.

***

He felt oddly at ease walking out into the living room the next morning, still in his newly-conjured pyjamas. Clarke smile at him from the coffee machine. Her bed head gave her a blonde sort-of halo, and it wasn't a bad look. _Stop that, Bellamy_.  
"Morning," she said, "how do like your eggs?"  
He folded his arms, amused."You don't have to cook for me, you know. I don't technically need to eat."  
"A life without food is no life, genie-boy. Besides, you're my guest."  
A warmth unfurled in his chest at the same moment he thought _this is very very bad_. "So, did you come up with any wishes? You can wish now."  
Clarke just smirked."I'm still good, thanks. Do you want to go for a walk?"  
Bellamy hadn't been outside in the 21st century in a good 300 years, so he said yes, and magicked into a clean outfit while Clarke went to change. She wore her hair in a loose ponytail.

It was chilly outside, but considering his last job had been in the 7th century Egyptian desert, Bellamy didn't mind too much. Clarke kept blowing on her hands and eventually, he just reached across and pulled her into his side as they walked.  
"You're so _warm_ ," was all she said as she nestled closer.  
It felt as natural as it did dangerous, so he just stayed that way.  
Walking was nice. He hadn't properly stretched his legs in centuries, and the most mundane 21st century landscapes sent a thrill of familiarity through him, as he remembered a time when a younger, freer Bellamy Blake would have walked roads much like these.

***

Clarke didn't make wishes. It's not that she didn't ask for help, because she did. He became a kind of surrogate roommate, helping do dishes or taking out the rubbish, living out of her guest bedroom. They were all menial tasks that she could have accomplished herself but, well, while he was here it only made sense to help out.

He met her friends too- Jasper, a biochemistry grad student, his roommate and best friend the engineering student Monty, Monty's boyfriend, a mixed martial arts champion named Miller (with whom Bellamy got on very well, actually), and Raven, a wickedly sharp mechanical engineer who had been cheated on by the aforementioned asshole Finn, with an unwitting Clarke. None of them seemed hugely surprised that Clarke had unearthed a djinn, and they seemed to take the cohabitation into which the two had entered all in their stride (though they kept snickering when they mentioned and throwing looks at Clarke. Bellamy couldn't say why). With a growing sense of dread, Bellamy realised he was getting used to this, the kind of normal, mortal life he'd have had had he not volunteered for eternal servitude. And getting used to it was a very dangerous thing. Yet he couldn't make himself do anything. He should have distanced himself immediately, perhaps summoned Anya for an appeal to let him retreat back into the lamp. But in this new life there were friends and walks and food and people and the outdoors and Clarke. He knew it was stupid, so, so unspeakably stupid. But he liked her. He liked when she would come home from work, exhausted, and flop on the sofa with her feet on his lap and rant about her day in one breath. He liked how she would always take board games too seriously, especially Operation, and start strategising about how best to play, and getting angry if she lost. He liked how she'd sleep late on weekends and not emerge from her room till eleven, slow and sleepy and peaceful. He liked all these things, and he knew that he really, really shouldn't. Growing any form of attachment to a lamp owner was bad news for the genie. It was always devastating when the owner inevitably made three wishes, and the djinn was lost in the void of time for a few more centuries with just their misery for company. Anya warned them all about it ever single Genie Summit. So Bellamy knew that even calling Clarke a friend- which, let's face it, she was- was a bad idea. But it wasn't like he could do anything until she'd made her wishes.

"Aren't you ever going to wish for anything?" he asked her.  
"I'm still good, thanks."  
Bellamy studied her. "Really? There's nothing you want?"  
"I have everything I need Bell, thanks for the concern."  
_Bell_. She'd called him _Bell_.  
"But you don't have anyone to share it with! I can give you the perfect man, the perfect woman, heck, I can give you both!" And he could. Bellamy didn't know why he felt his stomach clenching as he said this.  
Clarke examined her hands, frowning. "It wouldn't be right, Bellamy. I just get to choose and then someone's, what, bound to me with no choice? That's not fair."  
Bellamy an ache in his chest, an ache at the kind of selflessness he had not seen in five millennia. What he said was, with a gentle smile:  
"You really haven't grasped the whole concept of this genie situation, have you?"  
Clarke snorted. After a while she spoke again.   
"Tell me something- what's it like, being a genie? I mean, I know you're enslaved, but-"  
"No, I know what you mean." Bellamy considered. "Well, for one thing, I'm much better off than an actual slave. I've seen the whole world, traveled back-and-forth through time-"  
Clarke frowned. "Yeah, how exactly does the back-and-forth thing work? You were born in this century and have been a djinn for _five_ years, but also for five _thousand_ years?"  
Bellamy tilted his head backwards as he thought about how best to explain. "Most people run on linear time. You're born, you grow, and about eighty years-"  
"I fully intend on surviving to ninety," interjected Clarke.  
"About _ninety_ years," amended Bellamy, grinning, "after you're born, you die. Genies don't live on linear time. For us, times are like places, we can hop back-and-forth between them. Or our lamps can. Basically for me, the third century, the seventeenth century, this century- they're all simultaneous."  
Clarke's eyes were wide. "Have you ever been to the future?"  
Bellamy shook his head. "Nah- one of the limitations is that you can't travel to a time later than the one you were born in."  
Clarke drank this in. "What's your favourite century?"  
"This one," he answered automatically. He felt himself blush- until now, his favourite had always been the seventeenth century. Why had he changed his answer now?  
"You know, because it's home and all," he muttered. _That's not w- shut up, Bellamy_.  
"What's the weirdest thing anyone's wished for?" Clarke asked, still curious.  
Bellamy pondered a moment. "One guy asked to be turned into a dog. That was fairly odd."  
Clarke laughed in disbelief. "What's it like?" she asked "having to grant all these people's wishes?"  
His face darkened. "It...it depends on the person wishing. Some stuff you see over and over again- money, fame, love, power. It's dull at best. Also tragic, because it ends badly so many times and I can't stop them. But sometimes, sometimes it's nice."  
Clarke cocked her head, and he smiled.  
"One boy asked me to heal his injured cat- the kid's face was brighter than the fucking _sun_ when I did. One woman asked for a house for her grandmother. Stuff like that- it feels really good."  
Clarke smiled, but when she studied his face, the smile melted.  
"What?" he asked.  
"There's more."  
He sighed. "Yeah, there's more. There's the evil ones too. They make me do things... I hurt people. I've- I've killed people, Clarke. I don't want to. But they wish for it and-"  
"And you have to." She placed her hand over his.  
"It's not your fault, Bellamy," she said firmly, "the things people make you do when you're bound to them."  
"I know that," he said, "I just don't feel that."  
She rested her head on his shoulder, tucked into his side.  
"You're okay," she murmured against his shoulder. She fell asleep like that.

***

Three weeks later, shit got real. _Really_ real.  
The day started fairly normally. Clarke got ready for work, Bellamy 'poofed' up a 21st century outfit, only his golden cuffs remaining to show his djinn nature.  
It was Bellamy's turn to make breakfast. As usual, he asked Clarke if she had any wishes yet, only half-teasing. As usual, she just laughed, kissed him on the cheek, and said she was "good for now, thanks."  
Clarke went to work, Bellamy went for a walk, and whilst he was out, ran into Jasper and Monty. They chatted for a bit- it turned out the two boys were waiting for a friend of theirs, from college, who was in town.  
Bellamy was about to go on his way, when several things happened at once.  
"She's here!" Monty cried, waving at someone.  
"Octavia!" Jasper yelled at the figure, waving.  
" _Octavia_?" Bellamy blanched.  
"Jasper, Monty!" Octavia laughed delightedly as she ran up to them. She stopped dead. " _Bellamy_?"  
Jasper and Monty glanced between them before whipping round to face each other in realisation.  
"Bellamy Blake..." Jasper's eyes widened.  
"Octavia Blake... _Dude_!"  
" _Dude_!"   
"Octavia!"  
Everyone turned to see who had spoken. A tall, dark-skinned, good-looking guy jogged over.  
"Lincoln!" Octavia kissed him as he caught up.  
" _Lincoln_?" spluttered Bellamy, incredulous.  
"Um, hi?" Lincoln looked confused.  
"Lincoln, Bellamy, Bellamy, Lincoln." Octavia looked equal parts delighted and confused.  
"Bellamy your _brother_?" Lincoln gaped.  
"Lincoln like the president I shot? Lincoln your _really old boyfriend_?" Bellamy's fists were clenched.  
"He's t _wenty-eight_ , Jesus!"  
"You're twenty- _two_!" Bellamy was very stressed.  
" _You're_ twenty-eight!" Octavia retorted.  
"I stopped ageing at twenty- _three_! And is this _really_ the conversation you want to have after three hundred years of not seeing each other?"  
"It's only been _three_ years for me- but come here, you big douche-canoe."  
Bellamy had the most confused but welcome hug of his whole life.  
"Also," Octavia murmured against his cheek, "Lincoln's a werewolf."  
" _What_?"  
"I can assure you, I'm in full control of my transformations," offered Lincoln.  
"And I know how to muzzle him if needs be," added Octavia.  
" _WHAT_?"  
"You're _siblings_!" Jasper cried, as though he just got it.  
Bellamy rounded on him. "You _knew_ I had a sister called Octavia! Why didn't you _say_?"  
Octavia punched Monty's arm. "You knew my brother was a genie! What the hell is _wrong_ with you two?"  
Jasper and Monty looked at each other, sheepish.  
"Well..." Jasper rubbed the back of his neck.  
Monty shrugged. "I guess we just didn't... Connect the dots?"  
Bellamy raised his eyes to the heavens. " _This_ ," he spat, " _this_ is why weed is bad for you."  
The boys at least had the grace to look abashed.

***

Octavia had been very suspicious before meeting Clarke, bristly about encountering her brother's "captor." After Bellamy introduced them, however, Octavia kept looking from him to Clarke and beaming. She, Raven and Jasper kept giggling about something in the corner.  
Clarke, meanwhile, was effectively body-blocking Bellamy from Lincoln.  
"I _know_ this is stressful, Bellamy, but she's a grownup."  
"It's _weird_ ," he whined.  
Clarke clasped his face in her hands, which shut him right up.  
"What's half of twenty-eight?"  
"What?"  
"Oh come on, tell me all that dust in the lamp didn't get to your brain. Twenty-eight divided by two?"  
"Fourteen?"  
"Mmhmm. And what is fourteen plus seven?" Clarke's fingers were cool, pleasant. _Get a grip, Blake._  
"Twenty-one. But what-"  
"Octavia's older than twenty-one, yes?"  
"Ye-e-s."  
"Boom- she and Lincoln are good to date."  
"What? _What_? That's not a thing!"  
Clarke laughed, ruffling Bellamy's hair. "I know you've been a genie a while, but it's like you skipped high school! Of course it's a _thing_."  
"He's a _werewolf_!"  
"You're a genie," Clarke pointed out, eyebrow raised.  
Bellamy scowled. " _Fine_."

***

Octavia and Bellamy hung out every day. Bellamy saw a fair bit of Lincoln too, and, grudgingly, he had to admit that his sister could have done a lot worse. Clarke's friend group easily engulfed the younger Blake and her boyfriend, and it gave Bellamy some comfort to know that if- _when_ \- he went back to the lamp, he'd at least have brought some people together.

Bellamy was happy, happier than he'd been in centuries. And it _sucked_. It sucked because he had his sister, he had friends, he had a fucking _routine_. And Clarke. Always Clarke. There didn't seem much point in denying it, she made him happier than he'd ever been, genie or not. He had all these things, and eventually he'd lose them, and it would hurt like a _bitch_.

This in mind, he poofed back into his standard-issue genie outfit before Clarke came home from work, the chilly evening air nipping at his chest, which was bare under the vest. He glanced ruefully at the Christmas tree he and Clarke had put up yesterday. With dull surprise, he realised it was Christmas Eve. Of _course_ Clarke would work Christmas Eve.

"Oh God today was- _Jesus_ , Bellamy, what are you _wearing_?"  
Clarke had burst into the apartment, and stood momentarily shell-shocked by Bellamy's appearance. Her eyes lingered on his chest for a moment, which was gratifying. _So not the time, Blake._  
"Do you have any wishes?" he asked, his voice cracking. _You are NOT going to cry. Much._  
He waited for her to roll her eyes, to laugh and kiss his cheek and say "I'm good, thanks."  
Instead, a flicker of something crossed her face. She swallowed. Bellamy waited. She squared her shoulders. Bellamy loved her. _Whoop, there it is!_  
"Yes," she said, "yes, I have a wish."  
"Excellent," said Bellamy, hoping to drown the sound of his heart shattering.

He knew this was coming. He bowed low, arms folded.  
"Wish, O mistress of my power,  
And I shall grant it within the hour."  
He _really_ needed to speak to Anya about this rhyming fixation- it made him sound needlessly creepy.  
Clarke looked him dead in the eyes, though her lip trembled. "Bellamy Blake," she said, her breath ragged, "I wish for your freedom."

***

Bellamy didn't remember blacking out. He just remembered that the first thing he noticed upon waking back up were that he had his glasses back. They sat, off-kilter on his nose, as they had all those years ago. He realised with a start, he was wearing the exact same outfit he had the day he'd become a djinn, right down to the University of Arkadia t-shirt. His hands went automatically to his wrists. The gold cuffs were gone. He sat up quickly and saw-  
" _Anya_?"  
Clarke was staring at her too, open-mouthed. The chief djinn was levitating on a shimmering golden cloud, wearing the same disapproving expression she had worn since the fall of Rome. Judging by the gold key in her hands, she was the one who had removed his cuffs.  
"You know the drill," she said, sounding bored, "immortality gone. Switched back to linear time as of now. Continued ageing."  
Bellamy could only nod dumbly.  
Anya sighed. "Well. Good riddance, Blake." She glanced at Clarke. "Commiserations." Then she vanished.

 _Clarke_. Bellamy stared at her as they both got shakily to their feet, unable to move any further. For a moment, she stared back. And then-  
"Oh God, oh God, oh _God_ , Bellamy, I'm so sorry!"  
"Huh?"  
"I should have asked your permission, and instead I just _wished_ you free, and now you're immortality is _gone_ , you can't travel the world, or time, you'll have to live _here_ , and _age_ , and get a _job_ , and- and- and- _pay taxes_!" She looked like she was going to sob.  
Bellamy opened his mouth to speak several times before finally managing to make sounds come out. "Let me get this straight. You freed me from an eternity of servitude and you're... _apologising_?"  
Clarke managed a small laugh. "Well, when you put it like _that_... It's just..." she raked a hand through her ridiculously gorgeous blonde hair "my motivations for freeing you were entirely selfish."  
Bellamy felt his breath catch in his throat.  
"I just... I was serious when I said I didn't want anything, that I didn't need any wishes, but I was originally just going to wish for some random bullshit like a cupcake or something so that you could leave, but then I started to kind of sort of _like_ you, like, _like-_ like you, and it was so great having you around, so I had this idea where I basically just wouldn't wish for anything so you could stay. And it was _stupid_ because you kept asking if I had any wishes and I knew I was being a total freak just keeping you here against your will, and I was so far gone at this point that I knew I wanted to do... something, but while you were my djinn you might as well have been my _gigolo_ and that would be gross and morally depraved, so I wished you free without _any_ consideration of the effect it would have on you, and now you're here and... Yeah."  
Clarke said all this, by the way, in the span of one breath. She burst into a short, bitter spurt of laughter. "God, my idiot friends have even been _shipping_ us."  
"Shipping us."  
"Yeah it's- look, my point is, Bellamy, you don't owe me anything for freeing you."  
Bellamy wanted to respond with a lucid assurance that all these apologies were absurd, that Clarke had given him a blessing, that this was a dream come true, he really did.

He opened his mouth to reply and everything, but what _actually_ happened was that he gave a surprised sort of _gasp_ , and all but _fell_ forward, crushing his lips to hers. She matched his gasp, into his mouth, and kissed him back with a determined ferocity that was oh-so- _Clarke_ , and her hands tangled in his hair, and he loved her, and he was kissing her with such enthusiasm that he picked her up, and her legs hitched around his waist where he held them steady. He loved her stupidly much. When they finally broke apart, it was for air. Bellamy was dimly aware that his lenses had fogged up, but he was too ecstatic to be mortified, every molecule of his body throbbing with energy.  
Clarke, still hoisted in his arms, reached down to gently pull the specs off his face. She smirked at him. "Glasses, huh?"  
He smiled at her. "Yep. Will they be a problem?"  
She bent to kiss his nose, grinning. When she spoke, her lips moved against his skin. "Are you _kidding_?"

***

"Merry Christmas," she whispered to him when her digital alarm clock finally flashed midnight. Bellamy had been upgraded from guest room to bedroom.  
"Merry Christmas," he murmured into her hair.  
Clarke was nestled against Bellamy's side, her skin warm against his under the cool cotton covers. She was tracing patterns onto the planes of his bare chest with her fingertips, and he imagined that _that_ was the best that anything had ever felt.  
"So," she shifted slightly in his arms to face him, " _I've_ already got the best Christmas present ever," she grinned as she leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, which sent a shiver through his whole body, "is there anything _you_ want?"  
Bellamy laced his fingers through hers across his stomach. He smiled, pressing his lips to her head. "I'm good, thanks."

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH! I did it! Well, I hope you enjoyed my trash- kudos/comments would mean the world! Come hang out on [tumblr](http://kingedmundactually.tumblr.com), I'm taking fic requests!


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